


Closer

by south-dragon-hanzo (Kitanrum)



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Angst, Closeted, Jesse and Hanzo are soft bois that need love, M/M, McHanzo Week 2017, Runaway, Sexual Experimentation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 13:37:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,524
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11314515
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kitanrum/pseuds/south-dragon-hanzo
Summary: Hanzo and Jesse meet when they're in 8th grade, take to each other and have it all worked out until they are found out. Enjoy!





	Closer

**Author's Note:**

> Hey all, I wanted to do something for McHanzo Week 2017 and a follower celebration on Tumblr. I've had this idea for a while based off of the song Closer by Chainsmokers featuring Halsey.
> 
> Not Edited, so expect their to be a bunch of grammatical errors!

They met when they met in 8th grade. Hanzo Shimada came from Japan and was probably the most foreign thing Jesse had ever seen in his short little existence. The guy had long black hair, an odd accent when he spoke, too formal. He didn’t belong in a public school in Tuscon, but here he was seated right next to Jesse who was the complete opposite; where Hanzo had poise, Jesse was loud, where Hanzo had style, Jesse had the same jeans and cowboy boots pretty much every day, where Hanzo had wealth, Jesse had a farm he worked on with his mother.

From two separate worlds but they both shared one thing in common; Jesse was outcast because he was a redneck cowboy ‘wannabe’ and Hanzo was a rich kid with an attitude. It was no wonder that they ended up stuck together working on projects. At first, Jesse agreed with everyone that Hanzo was a total prick. He made it his duty to piss him off, try and see that ‘high and mighty’ attitude shattered and get to what he was really like. And while he succeeded more than a few times, which warranted him a few trips to detention, Jesse started to feel for the guy when the bullying started.

It was in January. Some of the jocks started to push Hanzo around, knock his books out of his hands, make fun of how he pronounced certain words in class. Jesse was relieved when it first started, it meant they kept off his back and he did not get in trouble for starting a fight, but when he saw Hanzo getting roughed up and not lift a finger he became horrified. At least he understood why he was a target; a poor kid with a knack for brawling and no one to back up made for a good punching bag. But Hanzo kept to himself, outperformed everyone in class without seeming to try and only sounding like a snob when asked to speak.

So Jesse did the one thing he knew how to do best, attract attention. The look of surprise on Hanzo’s face was priceless; the fact that the kid who had instigated him relentlessly was standing up for him did not seem to be lost on him. Before a fight could start one of the coaches called the jocks to come for practice. Hanzo crouched down to pick up his things but was stopped when Jesse reached for a book before he did.

\---

They kissed for the first time summer of 9th grade. Hanzo and Jesse had become thick as thieves. Jesse had been invited to the Shimada household several times, even slept over a few times when a new game came out. He found out Hanzo had a little brother and that his dad was terrifying. Mr. Shimada was always kind to him, but he knew that look he got every now and then. Mrs. Shimada on the other hand was the nicest, always making these sweet little Japanese treats. Mochi they had told him. Sweets were Hanzo’s weakness. That was why Jesse had bought him a bunch for Valentine’s Day. A few days later, Hanzo gave him a drawing of the most beautiful dragons he had ever seen.

So that same summer, when they were trying to beat the heat and listening to it would be no wonder that they found the same song terribly bad and sang it until Genji came to tell them to shut up. It was fitting when the song came on, First Date by Blink 182, sitting in the shade of a tree at Jesse’s farm with some watermelon slices that his mom had cut up for them with the portable radio between them. Jesse was careful, putting his hand over Hanzo’s. He had never seen the guy so surprised before and pulled it back, blushing and apologizing. There was silence until Hanzo asked, “Does this count as a first date?” It was Jesse’s turn to be surprised. Hanzo was pale and it was easy to see his blush but it took a little more for Jesse’s blush to be noticed. This was that little more.

It was awkward at first, hearts fluttering and stomachs twisting because neither of them knew what to do. Sure, movies showed you what to do but none of them ever showed two boys kissing or holding hands. Hanzo didn’t seem to be bothered, didn’t seem to understand what the problem was. He also did not see the problem with kissing. It was uncoordinated, a lot of noses bumping together, stopping and then restarting until they found something that felt nice.

\---

They had sex for the first time in December of their junior year of High School. No one was home at Hanzo’s house that weekend; his dad was on a business trip, Mrs. Shimada and Genji were on a trip Genji’s class was having that weekend. It was just Hanzo and Jesse. They had jerked off together, learn to give blow jobs on each other, but they never really went any further out of nervousness and no real experience. Jesse had been the one to get the video. Puberty really hit them both around the same time; Jesse sprouted like a bean-stalk and all of that work on the farm made him bulk-up quickly while Hanzo had grown to an average height for a Japanese male and started working out because he had joined the track team and soccer team.

And here they were, dating in secret for the last two years. Hanzo thought the name of the porno was dumb; it had something to do with cowboys and riding. They spent the better part of the set-up giggling uncontrollably; the acting was atrocious. But when the clothes started to come off, they sat quietly. Hanzo was redfaced when he realized one of them would have to ‘take it’, as the top in the porno had said. Jesse didn’t want to make Hanzo uncomfortable, so he said he would do it, or take it; there were a few nervous giggles.

And it was awkward like their first kiss had been; neither knew what they were doing but they were slow and careful. Hanzo would apologize in Japanese over and over again when Jesse made a sound of discomfort but they agreed to take a moment to get adjusted before continuing. It started feeling good for them both after a few moments; Jesse still hurt but Hanzo was able to take his mind off it when he started jerking him off. Neither of them lasted long. They lay next to each other, panting, hair stuck to their foreheads and cheeks but smiling.

\---

They were found out just before their senior year started. Hanzo had sworn the door to his room was locked. They were supposed to be doing summer work, which of course Jesse had waited until the last week to do. Jesse had managed to convince Hanzo to reward him for doing his work; the reward was a blow job. When the door opened, Hanzo was deep throating Jesse, nose pressed to his pubic bone. He stared wide-eyed at his father and pulled back immediately, wiping away the spit from his mouth while Jesse tried to cover his boner. But the damage had been done. Jesse was barely able to pull his pants back up before he was grabbed by the scruff of his neck and kicked out of the house. He had never seen Mr. Shimada angry before, had heard from Hanzo what his father could be like. Face first in the driveway, he stared wide eyes as the blade had been drawn out of nowhere and was coming at him. He started running.

Hanzo didn’t answer his calls, nor his IMs the rest of the break. When they came back from break, Hanzo seemed broken. At the first moment they were left alone and away from any prying eyes, they hugged and Hanzo clung onto his boyfriend more than anything. For the first time since they had met, Hanzo told Jesse what his family did, how they were being watched. It broke Jesse’s heart that he had known Hanzo for almost four years and had not known about the danger he had been flirting with.

But Hanzo was determined, he was the smartest kid in the school after all. While he was made to join as many teams and clubs as possible, had his afternoon lessons doubled and started working with his father, Hanzo was able to find time to message Jesse or spend time with him. But it all went downhill spring break. Just when they thought they were in the clear, that Mr. Shimada had better things to do than track his son every minute of every day, they were found out again.

This time Hanzo had snuck out of his house, something he had become very good at doing. He and Jesse had managed to use Jesse’s pick-up truck to move around. Hanzo was smaller and flexible, could hide in the passenger seat until they were in the backwoods. They were just kissing when the glass of the truck broke. The man was masked but Hanzo knew who it was. Jesse just about wrecked his gearbox trying to shift the car to move before a hand could come in and grasp him. It was Hanzo who shoved Jesse out of the car when they were nearing a rode that would lead to Jesse’s. He called for his boyfriend to hide in the brush and sped off. At first Jesse went to run after but when the line of cars started to come speeding after his truck, he hid.

He would get a call the next day that broke his heart. Hanzo was crying and shaking, Jesse could tell by his voice and the sniffling. “I am sorry. Do not look for me. I am leaving. Your truck is at a gas station in Flagstaff. This is goodbye.” The line was dead before Jesse could say something. His house didn’t have caller ID and the operator had not told him where the call came from. Jesse punched a hole in the wall. He could not remember anything else until the police showed up that night with Mr. Shimada in tow. He was brought in for questioning, came willingly. He did not hide anything, told them about the call he received, that his truck was in Flagstaff after Hanzo had taken it. 

The only time Jesse spoke out of turn was to look behind the glass where he was being questioned; he could feel the angry eyes looking at him from the other side of the glass. “This is yer fault… Yer the one who did this… Yer son’s out there because you couldn’ just mind yer own fuckin’ business and let us be! You hear me!? THIS AIN’T MA FAULT! I LOVED HIM! FUCKIN’ LOVED HIM….” That was the first time the tears trickled down his cheek but he stared at the glass with the same anger.

When he went back to school there was a gathering. He guessed Mr. Shimada had realized Jesse was right. Hanzo was missing, he had gone for a drive and never came home. No mention of Jesse, no mention of their relationship. He had made more friends throughout the years, mostly because Hanzo made him realize he was a better person, so they all rushed to comfort him, ask him if he knew anything. He lied through gritted teeth that he knew nothing. It was hell until the end of the school year. He didn’t go to graduation. They were holding a ceremony for Hanzo who had been the valedictorian before they even got to 12th grade.

He packed his bags, kissed mama good bye went to join the army.

\---

Now twenty-seven, the years had not been kind to Jesse since that night back in Tucson. Joined the army, had a penchant for shooting but was reckless. He was taken into black-ops, given the call sign Deadeye. Wars, proxy wars, special assignments, Jesse was assigned to them. The pain in his heart fueled him, so did the alcohol. Until he lost most of his left arm after a mission went south.

He was honorably discharged out of the army at twenty-two but there was an offer to join a military contractor waiting for him. Blackwatch. Jesse took the offer. There was only his mama back in Arizona and he could pay to get her moved if she wanted to once his salary kicked in. And here he was, five years later at a hotel in Los Angeles drinking the night away. He did not have anything to do until the following morning when he was to go meet with some new business partners from China.

Jesse was not looking to have a good night but the man across the bar from him was irresistible to look at. Undercut with what he guessed was man-bun, a bridge piercing, both ears pierced, was that a tongue piercing too? He wore a leather jacket with studs on it, a bunch of pins on it. And here Jesse was in one of his old raggedy button ups, jeans and his cowboy boots. Worth a shot.

He took his bourbon and approached the man, his prosthetic bending stiffly as it did until he propped it to lean against the bar. “Well what’s a dern beauty like yerself doin’ all by his lonesome? Mind some company, Angel?” Jesse had believed he had sounded smooth but the way the man went still made him think otherwise. Probably not gay either. “Oh uh… ‘xcuse me, pardner. Suppose I were bein’ a bit upfront with ya there.” He cleared his throat, tipping his cowboy hat, the same one that Hanzo had bought him as a gift for Christmas senior year of High School. The wound never really healed.

“There are no cowboys anymore. Perhaps you should give up the gimmick.” The man said, voice low and raspy. Jesse had half a mind to complain but the phrase sounded familiar. He tried to think of a response, tried to think of what movie he had heard that line in before, but all of it went out the window when the man turned up to look at him. Put the hair down, take off the piercings and the eyeliner, get rid of the goatee and right before him sat, “H-Hanners?” Jesse wished his void had not cracked but he stood looking at a ghost.

The punk man smiled, but his eyes seemed to glimmer with tears he fought back. But there he was, in the flesh, older and goddamn sexier than ever, Hanzo Shimada in the flesh. Still, Jesse had to reach forward and touch his face. He felt the air leave his lungs when that angular cheek rested against his hand, a corresponding pale hand reaching up to hold onto Jesse’s.

“I-I thought… Y-Ya l-l-l-left me, sugar… T-Ten years… Ten years, Hanzo…” Jesse was sitting now, unable to hide the wavering in his voice and less composed than his counterpart. The Japanese man only nodded, lips pursed together for the moment. Clearly he was in as much shock as Jesse was.

The gasp caught Jesse’s attention, suddenly warm hands were gone and pressed to the prosthetic. “Y-Your arm! It… What happened to it?” Hanzo was shocked, looked up with concern and an underlying panic Jesse knew too well from their youth. “Heh… Joined the army the day of graduation… Rest jus’ sorta happened.” For a moment there was silence and Hanzo began to laugh. It took Jesse by surprise. The man was earnestly laughing, a sound he had heard many times before but sounded older, raspier, and deeper. “Heh… What ‘re ya… What’s uh… So funny?” Jesse was not upset. Just confused.

Hanzo wiped tears from his eyes and sat up, a thin grin on his lips. “It has been ten years since I last laid eyes on you, Jesse McCree. Not only have you kept your cowboy persona, but you have managed to maim yourself, and I find you in a bar in Los Angeles and I have no idea how else to react.” He swallows thickly, Jesse can tell by the hard set of his jaw and the twitch of his adam’s apple.

“Hey uh… Barkeep? Imma need fer ya ta make these next couple o’ drinks with all yer top shelf stuff… ‘N add my friend’s tab to mine if ya’d be so kind.”

\---

They sat until last call talking. Jesse told Hanzo everything he could say about his life the last few years up until that very moment. Hanzo had more to say. The day he ran away he drove panicked until he ended up in Flagstaff. He had initially just wanted to lose his tail but then he realized that if he came back it would not end well. So he decided to just leave everything behind. He took the money he had in his wallet and bought a bus ticket to Seattle. He didn’t know why Seattle but at the time it was the farthest from home. He was homeless when he got there, just the clothes on his back and his wallet. He had no cellphone, no way of knowing where he was or where he was going.

Hanzo bounced from homeless shelter to homeless shelter until he found one for LGBTQ+ runaways. He got a job working at an art store near the shelter and started making money that way. The owner was awful but Hanzo was able to buy supplies to work on his art which he would go to flea markets to sell. From then he started to move around, paranoid he would be found by his father. Seattle, Chicago, Atlanta, New York, Boulder then Los Angeles. He went where the scene took him and where his art made money. Sort of became a bit of a law breaker and stealing things out of necessity, like his current mattress from his roommate in Colorado. A friend from Chicago was in for a gallery showing so he had come to visit them at the hotel.

When the lights came on, Jesse and Hanzo looked at each other. Jesse was on the fourteenth floor, but Hanzo had another idea. He took Jesse by the flesh hand, tipsy; the man had learned to drink and Jesse was surprised the small body could take it all. He was more surprised by the car; a Rover, something that a wander artist like Hanzo described would not be able to afford comfortably. They did not drive far. About twenty minutes. It was enough for Jesse to mess with the phone plugged into the stereo to find the song he was honestly surprised Hanzo still had on his phone.

Without missing a beat they both began to sing and laugh. Memories of their past together began to pour out, their first kiss, their first time seeing each other naked, first time kissing in public. When they got out of the car, Hanzo was pressed to the rover, Jesse’s larger mass pinning him for a kiss. They somehow made it up the stairs of the apartment complex, hands fumbling against each other until Hanzo pulled them back three doors to his apartment. The moment his back was turned, Jesse was pulling the spiked jackets from Hanzo’s shoulder. “Fuck… That’s hot.” He muttered when he saw Hanzo’s pristine skin covered in tattoos. Jesse leaned down and bit the dragon tattoo.

The door opened and clothes went flying. It was a studio apartment so the bed was not too far away. They went tumbling down, only stopping for Jesse to take his arm off. They had been desperate at first but now looking at each other in the light filtering from the streetlamps outside they slowed down. The kiss tasted of bourbon, whiskey, and cigarillo but there were hints of longing. They had grown up but their lips, their bodies, their hands slotted perfectly together.

Years apart did not have them forget what the other liked. Hanzo keened when Jesse tweaked a nipple on an unreasonably toned and muscular pectoral. Jesse almost growled when his ass was slapped and dove forward to kiss Hanzo. Their bodies tangled, taking turns giving and receiving pleasure. The sun peaked on the horizon, the sheets tangled up and mostly pulled up from mattress now that they laid cocooned in each other’s arms, sated and nearly caught up on years of separation.

Jesse pulled Hanzo closer to his chest, lips pressed to Hanzo’s temple. “I love ya, Angel…” He whispered, the words both foreign and familiar to his ears. “And I you, my love…” Jesse felt the smile against his chest, was sure Hanzo felt the way his own lips curled against pale skin. “Y’ain’t leavin’ my sight again, ya hear?” The Japanese man coiled up to him chuckled, shifting closer, his pale fingers dancing over Jesse’s abdomen under the sheets. 

“I would never dream of doing such a thing again.”


End file.
